


Odd Man Out

by yohlenyaoilover



Series: Prison Break: The Project [12]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, I love them so much, M/M, please help me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yohlenyaoilover/pseuds/yohlenyaoilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John threatens T-Bag in to leaving the group's escape attempt. T-Bag has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Odd Man Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my lovely project!  
> I've started re-watching Prison Break and plan on writing a short fic after each episode.  
> Each story will be titled to match the episode.  
> Sometimes the stories will relate directly to the main storyline, sometimes I'll pick out one moment that really strikes me and run with it.  
> This series will explore a whole bunch of pairings, with each one being a stand alone fic.
> 
> This story is for Season 1, Episode 12.  
> This scene was the moment I started shipping John/T-Bag. I was a happy little fangirl for all of three minutes until T-Bag cut John up.   
> Y u do dis T-Bag? Y!? U could've been happy but u slicing.
> 
>  
> 
> Let's go!

"Hey, that's enough," John walked in to the store shed, interrupting his men who currently had Theodore Bagwell held between them, beaten, "Leave us alone."  
"Are you sure?" The one holding T-bag's arms above his head asked hesitantly.  
"Get out of here," John nodded his head to the door, a dangerous lilt entering his voice. His men tossed T-Bag on to the table behind them as if he were a rag doll. His slim body tried to curl in on itself, away from the pain that no doubt bloomed in his ribs and stomach.   
As the room cleared, John slowly approached the table. Small sharp intakes of breath followed T-Bag's movements as he tried his best to sit up, his eyes never leaving John's.  
"You don't have to do this," T-Bag's voice shook. His words laced with fear as John pulled his sleeve up, calmly exposing his make-shift shank. And John took great pleasure in sliding the cool metal free of it's place inside his watch strap, a mad kind of head rush filled him as he pressed the blade to T-Bag's neck.   
"You brought it on yourself, I'm just an emissary for all the pain and suffering you caused, all of those families you ruined, all those kids-"  
"What about Jimmy?" T-Bag interrupted, his voice weak and shaky, "He had nothing to do with this, you didn't need to kill him."  
Ah yes, the man John's men had gunned down because the southerner in front of him was stupid enough to spill their plan to him.   
"And what about his beautiful son? His whole life in front of him, you didn't need to kill that beautiful child."   
John hesitated for a moment, the shank eased from T-Bag's neck slightly. The kid dying had been an error on his part.  
"Maybe after all the things I've done I do deserve to die, maybe I do, but you are no better than me," T-Bag carried on, his words cutting through John. He hauled the smaller man up from his place on the table using a firm grip on the lapels of his work overalls. He squeezed the fabric in his fist and brought their faces impossibly close.  
"But I could be if I want," John hissed, an overwhelming sense of desperation washed over him, "God has given me the chance to choose."  
"What?" T-Bag frowned in confusion, the word came out with a small breathy laugh.  
"Maybe I should give you a chance as well," John's eyes were bordering on manic. T-Bag pounced on the opening John had given him.  
"You should," He stuttered, his whole body had readied itself for a fight, "Anything. Please."  
John took half a step back, placed his hands on T-Bag's narrow shoulders. The shank was still clutched fiercely in his right hand as he began to urge T-Bag down.   
At first the other man resisted before it seemed to click in his mind what John wanted and he fell willingly.  
With slightly shaking hands, T-Bag reached forwards and tugged at the waistband of John's prison uniform pants. He moved slowly in case John changed his mind and chose to cut him with his shank instead.   
John sighed as the fabric was eased over his groin, stopping mid thigh. The cool air of the shed hit him. He was flaccid, his dick nestled in a light thatching of public hair.  
"Anything," T-Bag whispered again as he lent forwards and nuzzled at the soft skin he found between thigh and groin. T-Bag had done a lot more for a lot less before.  
John took in a deep breath through his nose before releasing it slowly as blood began to travel south, his cock slowly filling, swelling against T-Bag's waiting lips.  
Without any hesitation T-Bag wrapped his mouth around the head of John's dick. He enjoyed the feeling of a man getting hard inside him. Because of him. He used the flat of his tongue to trace the underside, finding a throbbing vein and followed its path down to the base. John's balls hung low and heavy, T-Bag brought a hand up to cup them. His other hand circled the shaft, wrapping securely around the base.   
T-Bag began bobbing his head, slowly at first. He built speed and pressure until John was panting above him and clawing fingers through T-Bag's hair. Somewhere along the way T-Bag had gained the upper hand. He had always felt exceptionally powerful when he was on his knees before a man. He held the power to make a man fall apart from down here, it made his head spin a little.   
And John was certainly falling apart. He was panting freely now, his hips thrusting minutely in time with T-Bag's movements. The hands that were threading through T-Bag's dark hair were tugging and pulling, encouraging the smaller man to go faster, take him deeper.   
T-Bag swirled his tongue, sucked as he drew back and twisted his hand at the base. Saliva pooled in his mouth, a small amount leaked out and down his chin.  
After a particularly well timed twist of his wrist and flick of his tongue, T-Bag had John tipping over the edge. In prison you had to learn to take your pleasure hard and fast and John Abruzzi didn't disappoint. His orgasm shot from him hot and quick, his seed hitting the back of T-Bag's throat.  
The murderer barely had time to swallow the load in his mouth before John had zipped himself up and was hauling him to his feet. Strong hands gripped the sides of T-Bag's face, John's face held no sign that he had just come. It was like the man was a machine.  
"Back out," John growled.  
It took T-Bag a moment to catch up with John's train of thought. John pressed the cold metal of the shank against T-Bag's flushed cheek again, having retrieved it from wherever he had hidden it whilst fucking T-Bag's throat.  
"Of the escape?"  
"Or die," John promised, the shank pressing in that little bit harder. They were so close, pressed flush together. This was sweet blissful torture. T-Bag craved to rub himself against the larger man. His own cock was stiff and trapped almost painfully inside his underwear. He's always found an odd pleasure in spikes of fear and adrenaline.  
The two men had danced around each other for long enough, it was expected that one of them would snap eventually. Just so happened to be John.   
But, T-Bag would play along. He'd play his part in this.  
"I- I wouldn't make it out there anyway," T-Bag laughed nervously, "Not with my proclivities."  
"I want you to give me your word," John was beginning to sound a little breathless, "You hear me? I want you to five me your word!"   
He shook T-Bag violently, his raised voice sending jolts of pleasure through the southerner.  
"You got it John, you got it. Please," T-Bag wouldn't break eye contact. John may have started this little game but T-Bag had no intention of losing it.  
"Swear!" John's voice did wonders for T-Bag. It was dark and commanding. It was such a shame it had to end this way.   
"I'm out, I swear! I swear to God!" The two men held eye contact, T-Bag could taste John's release on his tongue. He wanted to lick in to the other man's mouth and share it.  
John let his shank drop and pulled T-Bag's head to his chest. The two men gripped each other desperately, their breathing laboured. T-Bag's arousal flared at the musky smell of man that surrounded him. His head was light and dizzy, whether from adrenaline or arousal he couldn't say.   
"Alright, I have forgiven you," John pushed T-Bag away and he whimpered in disappointment. He fell back on to the table. "You just have to pray the Lord Jesus Christ will do the same."  
This was it, T-Bag's winning moment. John slipped the shank back in to it's hiding place in the band of his wrist watch.  
T-Bag sat up slowly as John turned to leave. His tongue moved in his mouth until the sharp edge of a razor blade was exposed. He kept one beneath his tongue for occasions just like this. Nobody could say T-Bag wasn't fucking talented.  
"Hey John, you know actually about Jesus," T-Bag took the blade in his hands and stood, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. John turned and T-Bag was ready. He sliced upwards, the small razor arched up and in to the delicate skin of John's throat. Blood splattered in a graceful arc over the window and down to the floor.  
"Say hi to him for me, will ya?"


End file.
